These words have not found you easily – they have prevailed against the highest form of censorship created by our enemy. This is the tale of how Justin Bieber came close to conquering the world.

At first, it wasn’t a big deal. Bieber appeared to be a pop-up celeb, seemingly destined to be obscure once people moved on or his balls dropped.

At the time, I was living in Los Angeles, the heart of starry celebs. I was a paparazzo, scrounging for a living through photographs of Taylor Swift jogging and Emile Hirsch picking up gay men.

In my line of business, we can gauge a celebrity’s popularity by how much we sell a photo for. Bieber started small – $1,000 for a pic of the kid doing something interesting. But soon it climbed higher and higher. We should've known things would be bad when the market would pay $200,000 for a picture of Justin Bieber being cradled by Britney Spears.

Suddenly our news waves were filled with videos of Justin Bieber crashing into glass doors and articles about how he gets his hair so perfectly swooped.

Then came the moment of no return. Paul McCartney, on that stage at the Greek, declared to the world that he believed Justin Bieber was the greatest musician in all of history. Paul had Bieber fever.

The first chapter of the Holy Church of Bieber opened on Sunset Blvd. in Los Angeles. It was a smashing success with 5,000 people in attendance each week. Squealing girls lined up at the doors, hoping they might see Lil Biebs. The church leader, Madam Grace, said she spoke with Bieber and interpreted his will.

We all thought this was crazy until one Sunday Madam Grace stood on the balcony of Bieber’s cathedral and announced, “I have spoken to Lil Biebs. It is upon us to spread the good word of Bieber, and silence our critics.”

The last part of her decree started the first murders. At first, due to the bad press, the church distanced itself from the fanatics. It couldn’t afford to have its image tarnished as Bieber churches opened across the country. After all, these centers became lucrative ventures.

It was when the third Bieber church opened in India, the establishment knew they could wield a sword to protect their interests. Justin Bieber met with the government officials of Kenya to offer a stern warning that their non-believers would be punished.

The U.S. government tried to frown upon this religious extremism, but the South was rich with Bieber fever. Sarah Palin said it would be unpatriotic to stop his efforts for Global peace; Glenn Beck told a story of how the founding fathers wanted our performing artists to have the freedom to spread their music with violence – his chalkboard covered with phrases like “Obama = No Bieber” and “Terrorists Fear Bieber.”

When Kenya caved in and declared the national religion to be Bieberism, other countries feared their own punishment.

Armies of teen girls stormed the shores of the world’s continents. They wielded heavy purses, and they were surprisingly fast in flip-flops. When grown men heard the battle cry of a high-pitched scream, they would wet their pants and cry for their mothers. In Spain, it was no longer the running of the bulls. It was the running of the Crocs.

Things were getting ridiculous. Madam Grace, while in the presence of Bieber, could swear he said, “I want you to get me all the Jews.” But it was clarified that he was thirsty and wanted some juice.

Elders throughout the world decided that the best plan of action to stop the crusades would be to stop his power at the source: teen girls. People skipped having children in fear that they would have a girl. The rich had scientists guarantee they would have sons.

But there were too many teen girls. My own daughter ruled our household. I tried to get her to do her homework one evening. That’s when officials from the Church showed up at my door. They roughed me up; told me I was a non-believer and that could mean death. I was scared.

As I sat in my living room, wearing a pink shirt with Bieber’s grinning face, I wondered if I should take my own life. It would be more peaceful.

That’s when the news anchor said the greatest words I had ever heard. “New teen sensation, Danny Slate, will start his concert tour soon.” A new heartthrob was born?

Turns out Bieber’s voice had finally dropped. He was now 20 years old, and suddenly the chilibowl haircut wasn’t cute anymore. It was just kind of weird… Teen girls became young women. A beam of sunlight broke through the clouds of ash that had loomed over our planet. And my daughter walked in and said, “sup, Dad.” Sup, Dad! Things were getting back to normal.

The church of Bieber was closed down, and Madam Grace was put against a tribunal for war crimes.

On a brighter-than-normal June day, I stepped out of my house to do what I loved: take pictures of Lindsay Lohan putting ping pong balls up her cootch at some bar. Life was beautiful.